


in vino veritas

by seventhstar



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Poor Life Choices, durbe please, past life tomos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3349586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night of a festival, featuring grief, revelry, and liquid courage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in vino veritas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rangerhitomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangerhitomi/gifts).



It is the night of a festival, but Nasch does not drink or dance or let the fires warm his skin. Instead he retreats to his chambers and nurses a cup of well-water and pretends that six months is plenty of time. He is not seeing the ghosts of his parents around every corner; their laughter does not echo in the throne room and they never call his name.

Nasch misses them and it is a wound that no wine can numb, no thread can hold stitched shut. He had been king in name long before he was coronated. But though his duties have not changed, everything seems lonelier without them.

He was not an affectionate child or a social adult and he wonders if they knew he loved them.

Merag is leading the midnight rituals on the shore, and Nasch does not know where Durbe is (does not imagine him reveling with the knights somewhere, does not imagine him in the arms of a maiden) so he is alone with his pain. He prefers it that way.

And anyways, he couldn’t have asked Durbe to — not without looking pathetic — not while Durbe is his —

Knock knock. “Nasch?”

Durbe is always so familiar with him. Courtiers are always reminding him that Nasch has a crown and a title, and Durbe always nods seriously and apologizes and then calls him by his naked first name again.

"Come in."

Durbe enters, and closes the door behind him. His eyes are bright and clear, and his hands are steady. It seems he has opted for sobriety as well. Not that Nasch has ever really understood the pleasure of drinking; it makes him ever more irritable than usual.

He looks fine in his formal armor. Nasch watches him move as if all the metal weighs nothing, and waits.

"You’re missed outside. The court is wondering why you refuse to join them."

"I hate sitting and watching everyone humiliate themselves."

"I know," Durbe says. He sits down beside Nasch on the edge of the bed.

"They were great rulers and will never be forgotten." Durbe squeezes his shoulder. He’s still wearing his gloves, and Nasch has stripped to undershirt and can feel the weight of his hand heavily on him.

"I know."

Durbe isn’t usually so blunt, but it’s late — and Nasch appreciates this, that Durbe understands immediately what is bothering him, without having to be told or shown.

The late king and queen honored the Poseidon Lands with their actions. They defended the people with all their might. And they brought prosperity to the empire. Nasch has done none of these things.

"You are worthy of them," Durbe says, and when he says it, Nasch believes it.

They sit in silence then. The sound of the celebrations filter through the open window on the wind; Nasch can smell the incense. He thinks it would probably be polite to thank Durbe, but he doesn’t want to acknowldge that he was ever unsure, and anyways

"I came here to tell you something," Durbe says, and then he plucks the cup from Nasch’s hand and drain it in one long gulp.

Nasch forgets to be angry for a full second, distracted by the way Durbe swallows, and then he scowls.

"What was that?"

"I’m very drunk," Durbe says seriously, and for a moment Nasch thinks Durbe is playing some kind of trick on him, to cheer him up (for Durbe must remember that it is six months since the funeral today), and then —

And then Durbe leans in and kisses him sloppily on the mouth. Nasch opens his mouth to protest, and Durbe misunderstands and shoves him back onto the bed and their tongues are touching and fingers scrape across his collarbone and Nasch can taste the wine on Durbe’s lips.

When he pulls away his eyes are wide. “Nasch.”

"Did you get drunk during the festival and then come in here just for that," Nasch begins.

"I needed courage." Durbe leans in again, his breath hot against Nasch’s face. "In case you decide to banish me here and now."

"And?"

Durbe’s brow furrows. “And what?”

"And if I banished you, I’d have to spend the next festival alone."

"I suppose I should entertain you, then," Durbe whispers. "Before you change your mind."


End file.
